


Jekyll

by notlosingmyself



Category: Fall Out Boy, Jekyll (TV), My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Jekyll AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-07
Updated: 2013-01-26
Packaged: 2017-11-27 05:27:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notlosingmyself/pseuds/notlosingmyself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frankie had been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (Multiple Personality Disorder) but both he and Gerard think it's something <strong>much</strong> more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two Dangers Constantly Threaten The World: Order & Disorder

 

Even though this isn't Gerard's first art show, he's still nervous, just like every other time he's had to do this. He looks around the gallery, very impressed with the turn out; a few of his friends, mentors, fellow artists, and strangers, are looming around the area.

Even in the bustle of the crowd, one person stands out from the rest. Frankie. He has seen Frankie many times; at his shows, around town, and even in a class they both took a few years ago in art school. They are, by no means, strangers; but they aren't necessarily friends either.

Even though they've seen each other so many times, they barely ever talk. Frankie is a very shy person; he always keeps his head down, hair hanging over his eyes, and stays as quiet as humanly possible. On the rare occasions of conversing with him, Gerard always ended up babbling on and on while Frankie just stood there and listened. He’s always alone when Gerard sees him, never talking to anyone, usually staring at the art and drinking his wine. Gerard has never understood how he can be so quiet and reclusive in such a warm, social environment.

More than once, Gerard noticed Frankie looking at him, but before he could even smile or try to talk with him; he would always look away instantaneously. This time was no different. As soon as Frankie looked away, Gerard deliberates just going up and trying talking to him again.

 _Obviously, Frankie isn’t going to be starting any conversation_ Gerard thinks.

He finally decides to approach Frankie when he hears someone yell his name. "Gerard!" his brother calls. Gerard smiles and gives his brother a hug.

"Hey, Mikey."

"Congratulations on all of this, Gee, it’s amazing!"

"Thanks. I'm glad you could actually come this time,” Gerard says with a forced laugh.

"Hey! It's not my fault. You know Alicia was sick last time; I couldn't just leave her."

"I know. I'm just messing with you." Gerard says, looking over to where he thinks Frankie is. He moved. Gerard scans the crowd distractedly, still trying his best to pay attention to Mikey.

"...Who are you looking for?" His brother asks, noticing Gerard's sudden lack of interest.

"Oh, no one,” Gerard mumbles quickly.

"Mhmm. What's his name?" Mikey asks, surveying the room. "Is it that Frankie guy again?" Gerard tries to keep a straight face but fails, his smile giving him away. "What's it been? A year now?"

"No. Just a few months. God,” Gerard sighs. “But I’ve known him for a few years now."

"Well, he’s obviously interested in you, or he wouldn't be at every single one of your art shows." Mikey says very matter-of-factly.

"Or, he could be intrigued by my art. I am pretty amazing.”

"Sorry, Gerard, but spending hours looking at your work again and again would get old eventually, even for me."

"You just have no love for art. Frankie is an artist himself, he understands the importance and appreciates detail of it."

"Did you learn this from all those endless discussions you two've had?"

"Shut up, Mikey. Nobody asked you." Gerard says, unable to think of any better comebacks. He really doesn’t mean it, but he hates how right Mikey can be. Mikey just gives him a rare smirk, a pat on the shoulder, and walks back to Alicia and Ray.

After a couple hours of chatting with various people, Gerard still hasn’t spotted Frankie.

 _Maybe he left or something. He still could be somewhere around the gallery... Or he could be avoiding me._ Gerard thinks.

As the place slowly clears, Gerard decides he’s done enough hand shaking and wine drinking to earn a bathroom break. He's washing his hands when he hears someone come into the bathroom. He turns around to find Frank, hair slicked back, standing up straight and staring right at Gerard with a grin on his face.

"Hello," Gerard says, trying to strike up conversation.

"Hey," Frank quietly replies, taking a few steps closer.

"You enjoy the show?"

"Yeah, it was amazing." Frank says, taking another step forward, only leaving a small gap between the two of them. There’s something different about Frankie. He’s obviously a little more confident, but there’s something else. Gerard can't quite put his finger on it.

Frank places his hand on Gerard's hip. "You know, artists are kind of a huge turn on for me. Especially the really talented ones,” he coos. Before Gerard can think of a response, Frank leans in, closing the last two inches between them until his nose brushes against Gerard's cheek, pressing a kiss onto his lips. Gerard is shocked at the boldness of the action. Frankie had said hardly anything to him, and now here he was, his arms wrapped around Gerard’s waist, pulling him in.

Frank nips Gerard's bottom lip and Gerard opens his mouth slightly, letting Frank's tongue sneak in. Gerard tangles his hands in Frank's long black hair, pulling at it gently. Frank makes a pleased noise and pushes Gerard back until he's leaned up against the sink counter. Frank starts kissing down Gerard's neck. He bites down sharply and starts to suck on the soft skin, causing Gerard to moan loudly.

Frank's hands wander as he starts pressing Gerard harder into the counter, grinding against Gerard's growing erection. Frank begins to kiss Gerard again, smiling against his lips as he palms Gerard's crotch. He moans and arches into Frank's hand, Frank starts to tug at Gerard's belt, but Gerard pushes him back. "Not here, Frankie. Let's go to my place."

"M'kay. But call me Frank," he says with a devilish smile as he follows Gerard out.

* * *

The next morning, Frankie wakes up to a beam of sunlight shining on his face and a killer headache.

He rolls over to find a very naked Gerard sleeping next to him. _Oh my God, Frank, what have you done this time?_ He thinks.

He rolls out of bed and tries to dress quietly, he steps over the mess on the floor and locates all of his clothes. He manages to do this all as quiet as possible, making sure not to disturb Gerard’s sleep.

If he stays, Gerard might realize something is off, but if he leaves; he's going to seem like a total asshole. Plus, he's kind of wanted this for a while now. Just not like this. He has to leave.That's just how it has to be.

He makes his way through the very impressive apartment and rides down the elevator into the lobby where the man at the front desk gives him a very strange look.

Frankie gets about two blocks away before he realizes that he has no idea where he is. With a throbbing head and sore body, he looks around, very confused, for any taxis, but there are none.

 _Well fuck._ He checks his phone; the time reads 6:23. He walks a few more blocks before he starts to understand where he is. He turns left and sees the art gallery and the coffee shop he practically lived at in college. This is nowhere near his apartment.

He takes out his phone and calls the only person he can trust to always come get him. "Hey, Ross, you up?"

"Yeah, it's like 6:30, of course I'm up." If it were anyone but Ryan, he would have thought that was sarcasm.

"Well...can you possibly come pick me up?"

"Sure, what time do you want me over to your place?"

"Well...I'm not at my place. I'm kinda over by the art gallery."

Ryan agrees without question. "Okay, be over there in fifteen. Meet me at Cliff's Cafe." And the phone clicks off.

* * *

Frankie waits at the cafe for Ryan. He always loved this place; it was the perfect mix of food and coffee. Frankie definitely loves both. When he and Ryan both were in college, this place was only a few blocks away and considering every coffee shop on campus was overpriced, walking a little wasn't too bad. Since Ryan's uncle, Cliff, owned the place, they pretty much lived there all four years.

A few minutes later, Ryan finally drives up, fully dressed, looking like he spent hours on himself. Like always. "Get in, Iero."

Frankie ducks into Ryan's car and Ryan pulls out and heads towards Frankie's place. "So, did you sleep at the gallery, or...?"

"I didn't sleep in the gallery." Frankie really doesn't want to talk about the events of the night before, he doesn't even want to think about it.

"Sidewalk, then?" Ryan asks sarcastically.

"No. I slept in a bed," Frankie says quietly, trailing off.

"Ooh, I see. You finally shacked up with the tight jeaned artist," Ryan says, giving Frankie a knowing smile.

"Well. Not exactly... I didn't."

"Oh. That again. Maybe you-" Frankie cuts Ryan off,

"Look, can we just not talk about this?" he snaps.

They drive in silence until they get to Frankie's apartment. Ryan stops the engine and asks, "You want some company? Or do want to suffer in silence, alone, with no one there to help you in your time of need?"

"Do you always have to be so dramatic? You can come up if you want, all you have to do is ask." Frankie opens the door and climbs out onto the pavement.

"Well, that's no fun. And if you listened closely, that was a question," Ryan calls out.

"Shut up and come in." They run all the way up the three flights of stairs until they reach Frankie's door. As soon as they get in, Ryan takes off his shoes and sprawls out on the couch.

"So, how was your night with the tight jeaned artist?" Frankie starts a pot of coffee and picks up the kitchen a bit.

"His name is Gerard, and I told you, it wasn't _my_ night."

"So, you seriously can't remember anything, then?" Ryan asks, curiosity ringing in his voice.

"Usually bits and pieces, but today, I've got nothing. A complete blank." Frank lets out a deep sigh and gets the cups out of the cabinet.

"Wow. So, like, how do you even know it was just Him? Could there be other... you know, you's?"

"He isn't me. You know that; you've seen him yourself. And no, I don't think so."

"I know, I've seen him, but he looks almost exactly the same. Just a little less midget like."

"Fuck you, I'm not that short. There has to be many more differences."

"Other than being the exact opposite of you, personality-wise, that's pretty much the only difference." Ryan pauses, thinking. "Well, that, and the hair."

Frankie walks over to Ryan, holding out a coffee cup to him. "The hair? How's it different?"

"It's like... all brushed back, not in your face. I, for one, kind of liked it like that." Ryan sits up and takes a sip of his coffee, watching Frankie over the brim of his cup.

"Well, I'm just so glad you like His hair. I'm sure you two can be best buddies."

Ryan scoffs, "Not really someone I'd hang out with. Kind of a dick, actually."

"Oh, geez, thanks," Frankie says, taking a sip of his coffee before walking over to the couch and pushing Ryan's feet out of his seat.

"Oh my God. First you don't want to be associated with Him, and now you're getting all butt hurt over what I say about Him." Ryan says, his hands flying around dramatically. "Sorry. I-I just don't know, man. This shit is all fucked up."

"Oh, really now? What gave you that idea?" Ryan scoffs, taking out his phone and typing something.

Frankie changes the subject, he's sick of talking about this. "So, you still with that Brandon dude?"

"For one thing, his name is Brendon, and yes, I am. I have been for, what? Almost six months? And you still can't remember his name?"

"It's not my fault. I mean, who names their kid Brendon? They sound like they were too stuck up to name him Brandon." Frankie takes another drink. "And it isn't my fault that I don't know him and his special name, because _someone_ hasn't introduced us."

"I know you feel all third wheelish whenever I let you meet one of my boyfriends," Ryan says nonchalantly.

"Do you really think I care? I'd still like to meet them," Frankie admits; it's been such a long time since he's actually been around, let alone talked to someone that wasn't one of his clients from the body mod shop or Ryan.

"Wow. Is Frankie Iero actually saying he wants to socialize? This must be apocalyptic times," Ryan teased.

"Fuck you. I don't need to be social, that's what you're here for."

"Well, that just makes you a socialite then," Ryan says sarcastically.

"You know, I really should have just let those kids beat you up in the second grade."

"Oh my God, are you seriously bringing this up again? You didn't do anything amazing and heroic like kicking their asses. Oh no, you went and got the teacher."

"I still helped you. And I do remember you telling me that day that you would be my 'best friend forever'," Frankie teases, earning a playfully disgusted face from Ryan.

"And I regret those words to this day."

"Shut up, you know you love me and my tattle-telling capabilities."

Ryan's phone beeps and he reads over the text. "Fuck, who's texting you this early?" Frankie asks, completely confused that someone would be up this early.

"Brendon. Unlike you, he's a morning person. And you shouldn't be talking; you were the one calling me at 6:30 this morning."

"Yeah, well, I knew you would be up. You always get up to do your T'ai Chi thing and prep your pretty little face and hair."

"For one thing, it's yoga, and I do not spend that much time on my appearance. I just wake up looking like perfection."

"Dude, you are so gay," Frankie jokes, shaking his head at Ryan.

"Oh, and you're not? Mr. eyeliner-and-skin-tight-jeans."

"I only wore eyeliner in high school and part of college. You know I don't now."

"Mhmm. Whatever you say. It still doesn't change the fact that you like it up the butt."

Frankie chokes on his coffee and shoots Ryan a look, "Ryan, really?"

"You're just mad because you know it's true."

Frankie rolls his eyes, "Yeah, but you don't have to be so blunt about it."

Ryan's phone goes off again.

"Can't sugar coat it. It's a fact. A well-known fact, for that matter." Frankie just sighs and gets up for another cup of coffee.

After about an hour of Ryan going on about Brendon, he finally leaves to meet up with him, leaving Frankie some time to actually sleep.

[Twitter](Twitter.com/notlosingmyself)  
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	2. "A man's true secrets are more secret to himself than they are to others." - Paul Valery

Frankie wakes up sweaty, and in a twisted heap of sheets, panting for air. He tries to recall the nightmare, but it just won't come to him.

He rolls out of bed and trudges over to his bathroom to splash water on his face and wake himself up. Frankie's drying off his face when he thinks he sees someone behind him, just a quick glimpse, he hardly saw anything but an outline before whoever, or whatever it was had vanished.

He jumped up and took a quick look around the apartment; no one was there so he just wrote it off as a trick of the mind, and he is pretty sleep deprived after all.

He checks the time and groans, it's almost noon and he's going to be late for his first appointment if he wastes anymore time.

Adam and Pete will kill him if he skips out again,he's already missed enough work from family emergencies, over-sleeping, and worst of all; when he wasn't in control anymore, only God knows where he'd been.

The guys were great and all, but he can only make up so many bullshit excuses before they start to notice that something is wrong.

Ryan doesn't help either. Frankie was pretty sure that one day he was going to get fired because Ryan doesn't know when to stop when it comes to flirting with Pete. Sure, Pete seemed pretty used to it, but Frankie was just waiting for the moment Ryan would cross a line, like he always does, and fuck everything up.

Frankie quickly pulls on a clean shirt and a semi-clean pair of jeans. He looks all over the room for his wallet but he can't find it, he searches in his pants from the night before and all over the small apartment, it just can't be found. He goes through where he could have lost it but he couldn't think of any place that it would be.

 _I don't have time for this._ he thinks.

He doesn't have much money in the wallet and definitely no credit or debit cards, his main problem was his ID; he's already had to get it replaced twice this year because of his black outs and inability to remember where Frank had been.

He grabs his keys and then realizes that his car is still at the gallery and there's no way of getting there without a ride.

He picks up his phone and punches in Pete's number, it rings five times before Pete finally answers,"Hey,wherethe fuck are you?"

"I had a very rough night, I can't find my wallet and my car is stuck at the art gallery. Can you cover for me today?" Frankie pleads.

"I'm sorry, but I can't, I've got too many customers today. Also, I'm pretty sure Adam is going to kill both of us if I do that again."

"Yeah, I know but I just need you to finish off Austin's chest piece, he's going to be there soon and I've already canceled on him once."

"I'm sorry Frankie, I can't. Just call him up and tell him you can't see him today, make up some bullshit excuse about being out of one of the inks or something. Can you make it in later today?"

"No, I doubt it, there's no way I can get all the way across town without my car. I promise I'll have it back tomorrow. Please, just please make sure that Adam doesn't kill or fire me. I really don't need that."

"You know he's not going to fire you, he just gets a little pissy. Hold on." Pete calls something out to someone, probably his next customer. "Hey, I've got to go, my 12:30 septum is here." Before Frankie can even respond, Pete hangs up.

* * *

Gerard continues to paint as he hears the door to his studio open and close. "Hey, Gee." Mikey calls as he walks into the bright room. "Whoa, what's got you so down?" He sits on the edge of the couch he had helped Gerard move in. Gerard hated the stupid couch, it was an ugly green color, but he needed someone where for anyone who came by to sit. He really didn't have too many visitors at his studio, but Mikey always complained.

"What are you talking about?" Gerard asks quietly. He knows exactly what Mikey is referring to, but he just didn't want to admit it to himself.

"Well, the seeing that you look sad and you're painting is depressing and maybe the fact that I'm your brother and I can sense these things."

"I'm fine, Mikey," Gerard statesflatly,not meaning it at all.

"Really, Gerard? My bullshit detector is blaring right now." Gerard knows Mikey won't leave it, his brother may be very blunt at times but he's very caring. "What happened?"

"Nothing." Gerard sets down his paint palate and turns around to face Mikey.

"You were fine at the show last night. What went down?" Gerard finally breaks and tells Mikey what had happened the night before, sparing him the details.

"Wow. Well that's fucked up," Mikey says.

"Yeah, I know... He was just gone, no note or message or anything."

"Well, you know, some guys can only promise to be a one night stand."

"Yeah I guess... But I just wish that it was anyone but Frank, he's probably going to drop off my radar now."

"Well, fuck him if he does. He doesn't deserve to even be in your presence."

"Thanks Mikey... But I may have done something..."

"Oh, God, what did you do?"

"Well, Frank had left his wallet next to my bed, so, I brought it to his apartment this morning-"

Mikey cuts him off, "Wait, how do you know where he lives?"

"It's his wallet Mikey, there's an address on his ID, and his apartment wasn't that hard to find. I just taped it to his door."

"Oh yeah, of course. But why is that so bad? Are you mad that you didn't use it as an excuse to see him again?"

"Well, kind of that, and I left a note..."

"What did it say?" Mikey asks, kind of fearing the response.

"Just 'Hey, you left this at my place,and I figured you wouldn't becoming around to pick it up, so here.'"

"What's so bad about that? It's probably true. He did dash out on you."

"Yeah but I left it on the back if my contact card. He probably thinks I want something more. He'll probably think I'm a creep or something. It was probably too straightforward."

"Straightforward?" Mikey laughs, "Gerard, you're as straightforward as you are straight." Gerard finally cracks a smile. "It'll be fine, if he doesn't call, then you know he doesn't matter and you can move on. And if he calls and makes up a half assed excuse, move on. And-"

"Is there a situation where I don't have to move on?"

"Yeah, when he comes graveling back to you, just begging for your forgiveness, promising to never do that to you ever again."

"Yeah, that's not going to happen."

"Well, whatever happens, make sure to think it through. Don't let your little crush cloud your decision making skills, you don't want to end up dating some douchbag."

"Frank is not a douchebag," Gerard defends.

"Sure doesn't seem like it." Mikey looks at his watch. "I have to go meet Alicia, seeyou laterbro. Make sure to tell me how it goes," Mikey says as he puts his jacket back on and heads towards the door.

* * *

Gerard is just locking the door to his home when his cell phone chimes. He doesn't recognize the number but he answers anyway;

"Hello?"

"Hey... Um, this is Gerard, right?"

"Yeah, that's me. Who is this?"

"It's Frankie... I wanted to say sorry about this morning. Something kind of came up. And thanks for bringing back my wallet..."Frankie pauses and suddenly says, "And I was wondering if you wanted to come over?"

 _What? That is not what I was expecting._ Gerard thinks and then says, "Umm,sure.When?" Gerard can't help but grin like an idiot.

"Like sevenish?"

"As in tonight?"

"Yeah, is that okay?"

"Sure, sounds perfect. I'll be there." Gerard slides the phone back into his pocket and goes off to find something to get ready.

* * *

It's almost seven and Frankie is taking the cheesy French bread out of the oven when his phone rings. "Hey, Iero, you want to go out with me and Brendon tonight? You don't have to be a third wheel, I'm sure Brendon has amazing friends you'll love," Ryan says temptingly.

"Can't. I have plans tonight." Frankie answers distracted, trying to mix the salad while balancing his phone between his ear and shoulder.

"I'm sure your right hand can wait 'till later," Ryan teases.

"Fuck you. I have plans with an actual person."

"Your mommy doesn't count either."

"You don't know it, but I'm death glaringyou right now. It's neither." Frankie says, ready to get off of the phone.

"Who is it then?" Ryan asks, very curious.

"Well, if I told you that, I wouldn't be leaving you to wonder all night," He says, knowing that it will irritate Ryan.

"Tell me now." Frankie hears a knock on the door.

"He's here, I have to go."

"But-" Frankie hangs up. He knows he's going to hear about it later.

Frankie takes a quick glance in the hallway mirror and straightens himself out before opening the door to find Gerard standing there awkwardly, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Hey, come in." He's nervous but trying to shake off the feeling. _Act like you do with Ryan,_ he tells himself.

"Hi." Gerard walks in, looks around, and starts nervously rambling. "Nice place. Very clean. Freakishly clean, actually. Obviously, I'm not that way my house, you saw it. Actually, my house used to be really clean before I started practically living in my studio.And-"

Frankie starts laughing. "What?" Gerard asks, confused.

"I thought I would be the one falling over myself in conversation."

"Nah, you'll just stand there and listen, like always." Frankie just smiles and leads Gerard into the kitchen that doubles as a dining room.

"I'm almost done making dinner. You can sit down if you want." Frankie sets the salad and bread on the table and then goes to finish cooking. After a few minutes, he walks back over to the table carrying a dish, Gerard's plate of Fettuccini Alfredo and mixed veggies. He sets it in front of Gerard, who smiles.

"Did you make all of this?"

"Yeah."

"It looks good." You could cut the tension in the room with a knife. They eat their food in awkward silence, and when Gerard tries to start a conversation, it always ends soon after.

They are finishing up when Gerard hears a strange noise. The sounds starts to get closer and he tries to ignore it. Out of nowhere, a pigeon comes flapping into the kitchen and crashes into the table. Gerard pushes his chair back screaming, "Fuck!" And falls to the floor.

Frankie is too busy doubled over in laughter to do anything. The bird starts flapping around again, knocking the salad bowl over, and shattering it on the floor. Frankie finally stops laughing and tries to calm down the bird. He has it in his hands and starts to pet it as it coos.

"What are you doing with that thing?" Gerard asks, still on the ground.

"I'm adding it to my collection. I'm a pigeon keeper,"Frankie says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"What!?" Gerard asks, freaked out.

"I'm putting it outside, dumbass. Unless you still want it in here?"

"Nonono, you can let it out..."

"That's what I thought." Frankie releases the bird out of the open window, then shuts and locks it for good measure.

When he walks back into the kitchen, Gerard is still on the floor. Frankie turns and washes his hands, saying over his shoulder, "You planning on sitting down there all night?" Gerard's face gets a little red and he stands up, smiling. Frankie turns around and Gerard busts up laughing.

"Why- why did a pigeon just fly in here?"

"They tend to do that. No biggie."

"Seriously?"

Frankie smiles at him. "No, I think I would keep the window closed if they did."

***

After that, the initial awkwardness is pretty much gone. Who knew a pigeon invading dinner was all you needed to break the tension? Gerard and Frankie decided to watch one of Frankie's movies.

It's about twenty minutes into the movie when Frankie begins to feels his skin tingling and his head starts to spin. He knows what's coming. Sometimes he can stop the Change, or at least stall it. He doesn't want to tell Gerard to leave. He definitely can't do that, seeing that he's already left once before.

"I'll be right back." Frankie says, getting up and stumbling into his bathroom. He locks the door behind him and grips the edge of the sink, trying to stay conscious and in control. It never really hurt him when he "changed", but whatever hurt Him would hurt Frankie the next day. He had woken up many times with bruises, soreness, and even cuts from whatever the hell happened when he checked out.

***

Gerard is just sitting on the couch, waiting for Frankie. It's been quite a few minutes since he had gotten up, and Gerard is wondering if he should go make sure he's okay.

He's about get up to check on him when Frank walks out. Gerard notices he's pulled back his hair and is carrying himself differently again but dismisses it.

"Oh, hey, you're back."

"Yes," Frank says, grinning wickedly.

"I am."

***

Gerard rolls over and sits up. "Wow, that's definitely not how I expected tonight to end. Or begin, depending on how you look at it." Gerard says, smiling lazily at Frank.

"Oh, I'm full of surprises. Just wait, you'll see," Frank says.

"You know, the whole after-sex feeling is just so much better with a cigarette. Do you have any?"

"No, I used my pack up earlier this morning."

"Fuck. That means I have to get up and go all the way across the street to buy some," Frank drawls.

Gerard rolls out of the messed up bed and starts scouring the room for his clothes to get dressed.

"I'll go get them. Be back soon," He says as he zips up his jeans.

He's just past the couch when Frank yells, "You can just come back in, don't lock the door or anything." Gerard walks down the two flights of deserted stairs, and out into the cold night. He shivers from the sudden rush of wind strikes him. Gerard quickly ups pace across the street so that he isn't forced to be outside for so long. The convenience store is quite filthy and deserted, Gerard checks his watch and sees that it's really not too late at night. He paces around the store, only spotting the bored cashier and a man dressed in dark clothing, looking at the chips. He grabs a pack of cigarettes and quickly pays for it.

Gerard walks through the parking lot quickly, trying to avoid contact with the dodgy group of men surrounding an old beat up car. He isn't paying too much attention and he accidentally runs into the man from the chip section as he's walking to his black sedan.

"Sorry," Gerard mumbles as he continues to speed walk. Gerard walks up the stairs, lighting up a cigarette as he goes. The door is as he left it, unlocked, so he walks back in, automatically going straight to the bedroom.

Gerard looks inside and the room is empty, not a person in sight. He walks into theroom and calls out, but then hears the shower running. _Oh, yeah, he's a clean freak,_ Gerard thinks.

Gerard flops onto the bed, making himself comfortable as he continues to smoke.

***

Frankie steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel to quickly dry off and wrap around his waist. He walks back into his connecting room to get some clothes to put on but is met by Gerard laying on his bed, smoking.

"What the fuck?" he exclaims after managing not to have a heart attack. He doesn't remember Gerard stillbeing there when he went to go take his shower.

"Whoa, okay. Next time I'll just leave the cigarettes," Gerard says, getting up, sounding very offended.

"No- It's okay, I just didn't, um, expect you to be back to soon?" Frankie quickly lies, he suddenly realizes he's only wearing a towel so he self-consciously wraps his arms around his torso, a light blush spreads across his damp skin.

Gerard starts to walk towards to Frankie, but stops dead in his tracks as if something had terrified or startled him. He gives Frankie a strange and confused look then steps closer, putting his hands on Frankie's chest and looking closely. Frankie lightly shutters at the warm fingertips tracing over his chest.

"Do you plan on telling me what you're doing?"

He whispers, "Your tattoos." Gerard takes a half step back and looks at Frankie.

"What?" Frankie asks, completely confused.

"They're different...I thought you had a web on your chest with a bunch of other things. Now you just have a flame and hope."

Gerard looks down Frankie, noticing something else. "And I know you didn't have these two birds." He places his hands on his hips, right over the birds. It sends a shockwave through Frankie's body, "You had words though... something like' Search And Destroy'?" Gerard takes Frankie's arms, examining them, "These two people weren't here either." He looks up at Frankie. "What the fuck, man? It's not even an hour since I saw those tattoos last. Why don't you have them?"

Frankie looks down at himself confused. His skin is still tingling for Gerard's warm touch. He didn't know that there was a difference in tattoos, they looked the same as always, but then it hits him, Gerard had seen Frank's tattoos, not technically his own.

_Learnsomething new about myself every day. Well, not exactly my self._

"Frankie?"

"Maybe you should go," he says, but wishes he didn't have to.

"What? I thought- look, what is up with this? First, you send me out to get cigarettes, and when I get back, you're like a completely different person. You've been acting weird since that movie. Did I fuck up somehow, or...?"

_Yeah, you could say I'm a different person._

"No, you did nothing wrong. It's just- look, it's nothing you did, so it doesn't matter."

"Frank, just tell me-"

"It's not fucking Frank! My name is Frankie, I am not that fucker, Frank!" he yells, even though he's not mad at Gerard. _He didn't do anything wrong, he just ended up fucking a crazy person._

"Whoa, Frankie, calm down. I'm sorry? I thought you told me to call you that?" Gerard places his hand on Frankie's shoulder, trying to be comforting. Frankie pulls away, putting his face into his hands and saying,

"No, No, No, No. NO. Look, just go. I'm sorry."

"I'm not leaving until you tell me what the hell your problem is."

"I can't. You'll think I'm fucking crazy."

"Well, with the shit you're pulling right now, I'm already starting to think that." Frankie groans internally, wavering between coming clean or not. The only person he's told is Ryan, and he took it pretty well, but Frankie isn't nearly that close to Gerard.

"Fuck. I don't know how to put this..."

"Look, just tell me. It's not like you are going to tell me you have an evil twin brother or some shit." Frankie makes a face. "Umm... that's not what you're going to tell me, right? Right?"

Frankie shakes his head. "No, if only it were that simple..."

***

Frankie dresses and sits down at the table, sighing deeply. "Okay,you're going to think I'm seriously crazy, Gerard. I don't know how to explain this. I really don't know anything."

"Just tell me what you do know." Gerard statesfrom across the table.

"Okay... my little problem started about a year ago. I kept waking up in differentplaces. SometimesI would wake in someone else's bed, on the floor, or even in the fucking park. I could be in different clothes, hung over, or feeling like I just got the shit beaten out of me." Frankie looks up at Gerard, who seems pretty unfazed. "I had no idea what was going on. I thought I was blacking out, or forgetting everything I had done. Which, to some point, I kind of was." Frankie lights up a cigarette before he starts talking again. "I told my friend about it and he told me I should go see a doctor or something. When I finally did, they sent me to another doctor, a psychiatrist, and she diagnosed me with Dissociative Identity Disorder and-"

"Wait, as in Multiple Personality Disorder?"

"Yeah, but the problem is, people with that never know about the other personalities. They won't, and can't, accept it."

"And you do?"

"Well, yes and no. It's way more complex than MPD obviously. But the day after I was diagnosed, I blacked out again. When I came to, there was a note on my door telling me that if I tried to get help from anyone else again, He would put a bullet in my head. He said he didn't want to be 'put away'. And signed it 'Frank, the other you'. It scared me to death. I tried to taking the pills I was given, but He didn't go away. After a while, He started leaving me more notes. One night, He came when Ryan was over, and he actually got to see Him. Ryan told me that He looked different. A little taller, hair different, and now, apparently, He has different tattoos. Ryan said that personality wise, we were practically polar opposites." Frankie looks up at Gerard, who is wearing a thoughtful expression.

"Wow, that's some strange shit. Did you tell anyone like your parents about it? I mean, they could know if something was going on genetically."

"That would be nice to do, but I was adopted. My birth mother left me at a hospital when I was a couple days old." Gerard puts his hand Frankie's and rubs his thumb across it. "I'm sorry, Frankie," he says in a soft tone.

"I am too. My mother probably realized I was a freak before I did and gave me up for it."

"Don't say that. You know it could have just happened this way."

"Yeah, but it would just be nice to know what the fuck's going on."

"Well, it seems pretty crazy. Kind of sounds like that Stevenson book. Jekyll and Hyde?"

"Thanks for comparing my life to a fictional story, Gerard."

"Sorry, well, I don't know what I'm supposed to say. It's not every day that I'm told shit like this."

"I know. I shouldn't get mad. I'm just surprised you aren't running off."

"I'm sure there are stranger things out there."

"Is this why you left yesterday morning?"

"Yeah... It wasn't really me last night. It freaked me out that I recognized you; He usually fucks people I don't know."

"Oh. So all of that was him? You had, like,no partin any of it? Even in thebathroom?"

"No... what happened in the bathroom?" Gerard let's go of his hand, ignoring the question.

"Did you call me back out of guilt from what happened with your alter ego? "

"No! Well, I did feel really bad, but I didn't do this just because of Him. I swear. I did this because I wanted to."

"Oh, okay. Good..." Gerard thinks for a second. "So, when you say 'blackout', does that mean you can't remember anything?"

"Not really. I can remember a few things afterwards, like in flashbacks, and sometimes I can even see things as they happen, but not very often."

"Do you remember anything at all from today or last night?"

"Nope. But that happens."

"Oh." Frankie thinks Gerard looks a little disappointed. "I just can't believe I didn't notice."

"Don't feel bad. You know now." Frankie stands up. "I think I'm going to go to bed; I'm always wrung out after a change."

"Oh, okay." Gerard stands to go, but stops."Hey,areyou doing anything Friday?"

"No, why?"

"Well, I have to go to this big art show for my friend that night, and I still need a plus one. So?"

"Sure, I'll go. Sounds fun." Gerard waves at Frankie awkwardly before walking down the hallway.

[Twitter](Twitter.com/notlosingmyself)  
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	3. "The identity of one changes with how one percieves reality." -Vithu Jeyaloganathan

Frankie's bed shakes as Ryan jumps on it. "Wakey wakey, Frankie!" Frankie gowns as he pulls the comforter over his head. 

"Fuck off, Ryan. It's too early." He bats Ryan away. 

Ryan checks his watch. "Nine forty-seven isn't early, sunshine. Get your ass up." Ryan yells and pushes at him. 

"Ugh. I really need to take that key back from you." Frankie takes a pillow and covers his face with it, trying to block out the light. And Ryan.

"Won't help, I'll just use the secret hidden spare. Who would ever think to look under the mat?" Ryan says dramatically.

"What are you doing here, Ryan?" Frankie asks, peeking his head out. 

"Well, I would have shown up earlier, but I didn't want to run into anyone on my way in... Actually, that's exactly what I wanted to do, but I got caught up this morning."

"No one stayed the night, Ryan. Okay, you've heard what you came to hear, you can let me go back to sleep now." Frankie turns to lay on his side so that his back is to Ryan.

"You have to tell me every detail- First off, who was it? Was it that one dude that you did with that devil thing on his arm last week? He was pretty hot, you know, if you are into dudes covered in tattoos. Well, dudes like you. No, that's not it..." Ryan trails off, "Was it the guy from that party I took you to? Wait, I know who it is, it's Jon, isn't it? That's why you aren't telling me. You don't want me to know about you and my friend getting it on." Ryan waits for a response, but only for about half a second. "Oh my god, you're fucking Jon! That's so weird. Don't tell me anything. No, never mind, tell me every kinky detail." Ryan speaks as if he's drank his weight in coffee, which isn't that unlikely. It is Ryan Ross, afterall. 

"Holy hell! I'm not fucking Jon! I'm not fucking any of those guys! I'm not fucking anyone." He throws a pillow at Ryan and sits up.

"That's why you're in such a bad mood then." Ryan says, sitting the  pillow back in it's rightful place.

"Ryan,I am going to kill you." Frankie says, only half joking.

"Well, as my last request, I want to know who it was." Ryan finally sits down, cross legged, on the bed. 

"Oh my God- It was Gerard." Frankie finally admits. 

"Ooooh... I see, it was the tight jeaned artist. How'd it go? Obviously he didn't stay the night, so..." 

"It went fine. I made him dinner, we watched a movie, and we talked." Frankie states and leaves it.

"What did you talk about?" Ryan asks, being his normal nosey self. Frankie thinks and can only remember the long conversation about Frank. 

"You know, life..." He tries to think of something that will please Ryan enough to stop prying. "Oh yeah, and this art show thing..." 

Ryan's curiosity is peaked. He asks, "What's art show?"

"I have no idea, I it's in a few weeks." Shrugging as he stretches out a bit.

Sounding a bit disappointed Ryan says,"Oh, another one of his art shows. Haven't you seen all of his work by now?" 

"It's not his, though. It's his friends, and he needed to fill his plus one." Frankie says, hoping that it will finally satisfy Ryan's need to know everything going on in Frankie's life.

Like an teasing middle schooler Ryan says, "Ooooh, Frankie's got himself a date!" 

"Ryan, I'm twenty-two now. I'm not in high school, it's not that big of a deal." Ryan ignores him. 

"You know what's going to be awesome?" 

Not with that much anticipation Frankie asks, "No, what?" 

"I'm going to an art show in a few weeks. Probably the same one." A mischievous smile creeps onto Ryan's face.

"No you're not. You're lying, you hate those things." Hoping that Ryan really is just messing with him.

"I know I hate them, but Brendon is making me come along with him. It's like his best friend's or something. All I know is that there better be some strong wine, or I'm not gonna be able to make it through a night of canvasses splashed with paint." 

"You're such an art enthusiast." 

"You shouldn't be talking. Art shows are so boring. The only art shows you have been to in the past few years have been Gerard's." 

"Hey! That's because I like his style, that's all." Frankie glares at Ryan.

"Uh huh. Sure, it has nothing to do with liking his ass. No, can't be." 

"Screw you." 

"Wrong person, Frankie. You're screwing Gerard, not me." Ryan smiles obnoxiously. 

"Ryan,for the last time, I. Am. Not. Sleeping. With. Gerard." Frankie says, quite irritated.

"Not right now, you mean. It won't be too long before you won't be able to say that anymore." Ryan doesn't give Frankie time to respond before jumping up and running to the closet. "What are you planning on wearing?" 

"I don't know, button up and pants. Why?" Frankie doesn't really care what he wears. Of course he wouldn't show up in torn jeans and a stained shirt but being 'stylish' really isn't his thing.

"Because that won't do. You need a nice new suit. Something amazing.What about black slacks with accentuating, off-white, pinstripes? You must be impressive if you're going on a date." Ryan's eyes sparkle at the idea of clothes shopping.

"I don't need a new suit, and I know I don't have the money to spare for one." 

"Frankie, you act like you're broke. I know you have a jar of money saved up, and it's not like you have a life that you spend it on." Ryan says, turning back to the closet. He is always so disappointed in Frankie's attire. He wishes he had at least one fashionable cell in his body.

"I have no life? I am going out soon, thank you very much." 

"In a few weeks, wow, oh-so amazing." Ryan dramatically rolls his eyes.

"I'm very sure that we'll see each other before then. And besides, I have no time for a life, you're always clung to me." 

"I cling? Puh-lease," Ryan says, a flicks his wrist, "Now, get up. We have to go shopping for a new suit and tie." 

Frankie pulls the covers over his head again, like a child not wanting to wake early for school. "I don't wanna go!" He whines.

* * *

Tuesday quickly rolls around and Frankie almost kicks himself, he still hasn't picked up his car from the Art gallery, it's not like he had any use for it. He quickly dials Ryan's number and asks from him to come pick him up and take him to work. Within fifteen minutes Ryan is there, waiting for Frankie. "What would you do without me, Iero? You seriously can't live without me and my car," Ryan says smugly. 

"Shut up, I forgot to pick mine up yesterday because you were dragging me around store to store, trying to find a stupid suit," Frankie retorts, regretting spending the day with Ryan at the mall. 

"Well don't you want to look dashing on your date with the Tight Jeaned-" Frankie glares at Ryan, "I mean Gerard?" 

"I don't want to look 'dashing', I don't think anyone even uses that word anymore." Frankie shakes his head.

"I do," Ryan states. 

"My point exactly." Ryan just rolls his eyes and pulls out of Frankie's parking lot.

* * *

They pull up to Lazzara's Inkand Frankie climbs out of the low set car, "Can you possibly pick me up and take me to the Art Gallery after work? Please?" 

Ryan dramatically sighs, "I must do everything for you, don't I?" 

"Please?" Frankie half-way pleads. 

"Fine, but it'll have to be quick, I have plans with Brendon tonight." 

"Okay, thanks! Come back around four!" he yells out as he runs up to the door. 

"Oh wow, is that Frankie Iero? Is he actually early to work for once?" Haylie says sarcastically from the front desk. She's been working there since the opening of Adam's shop, along with Pete and Frankie. They had all become quite close friends over the past two years. "I know, surprise, surprise, I'm here early." 

"You trying to make up for skipping out on Austin on Sunday? Adam did seem pretty pissed off." She says as she twirls the pen between her ink covered fingers.

"No, Ross drove me here this morning. And was Adam really that angry?" Frankie asks, honestly worried. 

"Nah, he was a little frustrated but I'm sure he's already over it. You know him, he can't be angry for too long." 

"That's true, I suppose. So who's on my schedule today?" Frankie asks as he walks up to the counter and slumps onto it. 

Haylie puts her pen down and opens up the schedule book, "You have three meetings all between nine and one. Then two inkings between two and four, and I think Pete may call in a favor so you may need to make time for that." 

"Fuck, what is he wanting this time?" Frankie dreads the answer.

"I have no idea, it's Pete, it could be anything." It's true, there really is no guessing when it comes to Pete.

"True, well I guess I'll go back and set up." Frankie waves behind him and walks through the doorway to where all of the chairs are set up. He never quite understood the setup of the place, it's very closed off and dark, if he had a tattoo shop he would probably have it much more open and full of bright color but Adam insisted on having as little distractions as possible so this is what has come of it. Frankie is busy sanitizing needles when Pete walks in. 

"Frankie!" Pete exclaims and smacks him on the back. Frankie turns to look at Pete and he's grinning ear to ear. "What's got you so happy?" Frankie asks. Pete drops down into one of the chairs and takes a quick spin.

"I met someone last Saturday at this party and I ran into him last night. Let's just say that I'm probably the best he's ever had." Pete says, enormous ego showing through his words.

"Hold on as I choke on your ego," Frankie jokes and puts the antiseptics back into the closet. 

"Funny, because that's what he was doing too." Pete laughs at his own poor joke.

"Wow Pete, just wow. I really didn't ask for that. What happened to that chick you were with anyway?" Frankie asks as he takes a seat in his own comfortable chair.

"Who? Ashley? She wasn't worth the time I wasted on her," Pete says as he gets up and starts cleaning his needles himself. 

"That was so quick though." Frankie says, shocked.

"Yeah, but, oh well, there's plenty of fish in the sea and I plan on catching them all." Pete says, not even joking.

"Now what happens if someone just so happens to blow you off or turn you down?" 

"Well, then they don't know what they're missing." Pete says, sounding passive.

"Well who is this new guy anyway? Is he going to be your next Ashley?" 

"Oh hell no, Gabe isn't going to last as long as Ashley. One month with one person is far too long. I think he was just a two night go." Pete states as if Frankie was insane for even asking something so preposterous.

Frankie sighs and says, "And you honestly wonder why people label you as a man-whore?"

"I do actually. I'm not a whore. Whores fuck anyone they can. I only fuck what I want." Pete says, quite full of himself.

"Oh, so, what does that make you?" Frankie says, one eyebrow challengingly going up. 

"Experienced. Happy. Better than you." Pete smirks at Frankie.

"How are you better than me?" Frankie asks almost offended. "I don't go off and sleep with someone different every night, how does that make you better than me?" 

"Well, I take advantage of what I have, I exploit it. I'm sure you could have any guy you wanted but you don't open your mouth and do anything about it." Pete states.

"Well, maybe that's because I don't want just anyone, okay?" Frankie says irritated.

"Well, if you don't want just anyone, who do you want?" Pete asks curiously. 

"None of your damn business-" 

Adam walks in and cuts them off. "Okay princesses, it's time to work." He looks directly at Frankie and says, "Frankie your first customers are here." 

The day drones on and on for Frankie, he just wants to go home, crawl into a ball and sleep for days but he has to pick up is car first. 

Ryan barley talks the whole ride to the Art Gallery, he obviously knows that Frankie is not in the talking or joking mood. The day has been pretty shitty in general.

*     *     *

Gerard steps back, looking at his newly finished painting. He had a rush of inspiration to finish some of his old works for the past few days, he's been pretty impressed with the outcome. He looks at the time and decides that he's done enough for the day and he pulls on his black leather jacket and locks the door to his studio behind him. 

Gerard's coffee addiction has been getting out of hand recently with his late nights, shows, and over use of his creative outlet. He crosses the practically deserted street to a small café that he loves to go to every morning. 

The bells on the door ring as he enters the small shop. He looks around, not many people are there, just a serious man in a suit, a woman with her baby boy, and someone sitting in the corner, his back to the door. 

Gerard takes another look at the guy in the corner and suddenly realizes who he is, he quickly orders his normal black House Blend and slides a few dollars into the tip jar. 

_It's nice have a bit of money to spare now, instead of being a 'starving artist.'_ he thinks to himself.

He takes his coffee from the cheery barista. He decides to walk up to the table and slides into the corner booth seat opposite to Frankie. "Hey," Gerard greets with a warm smile. 

"Hi." Gerard can tell it's been a long day for Frankie just by looking at him. 

"You here with someone?" Gerard asks, really hoping that he's not intruding or interrupting something.

"Nah, just me." Frankie says, quietly and a bit distant.

"Oh, okay. Long day?" Gerard asks a bit worried. He hasn't really seen Frankie like this that often.

"Is it that obvious?" Frankie asks as he studies his coffee cup intensely. 

"Yeah, you look a little wrung out." Gerard shrugs.

"Well, I haven't been sleeping well, and work is just tedious lately. Nothing exciting." Frankie confesses.

"I figured you would be good with a little bit of normalcy and familiarity." Gerard says and instantly kind of regrets it.

Frankie gives Gerard a look he can't quite decipher, "Well other that,there's not anything interesting going on."

"Ha, you would think that that's the only excitement you need in your life." Gerard pauses and takes a sip of his coffee before continuing. "Well, l maybe you know a certain somebody that could add a little excitement?" 

Frankie perks up a bit. "Well, what does this 'someone' have in mind?" 

"Well... To be honest, I have no idea." Gerard thinks for a second, "I think my life is even less eventful than yours." 

"Oh, come on, it must be exciting being a successful artist." 

"I'm not that successful. Plus, it's not all it's cracked up to be; most of the time I'm locked up in my studio or at home wishing I was locked up in my studio." Gerard speaks quickly, using a lot of hand motions.

"I see how that may get kind of boring, but don't you enjoy doing what you love? You do love it, right?" Frankie asks.

"Of course I do! I just think I need to get out sometimes. Y'know, do something different." Gerard says looking thoughtful.

"Well this is actually me getting out," Frankie adds, "I probably wouldn't be here though, if I hadn't left my car here last Friday." He twists the cup between his palms as he looks down at the coffee stained table. 

"It's Tuesday, how did you even get home?" Gerard asks, completely confused.

"My friend Ryan, he's my personal car service." Frankie says jokingly. 

Gerard laughs, baring his stubish, but adorable teeth, "Nice." He tries to not let his mind slip to last Friday night, it's still weird for him to think of Frankie and Frank as two different people, it doesn't seem like something someone can just get used to. Especially so quickly.

"So, since you spend so much time in your studio, it must be filled with plenty of your pieces, right?" Frankie asks, fishing for a possible invite. 

"More like overflowing with the shittiest things I've done," Gerard says uncomfortably.   
Frankie just rolls his eyes. "I highly doubt that. I've seen what you can do." 

Gerard tries his hardest not to blush but he fails, "If you have time, you can come see it, it's just across the street." He gnaws on his lower lip and adds, "Y'know, if you want to." 

Frankie smiles assuringly and says, "Sure, I've got plenty of time, let's go over there now."

* * *

Gerard walks Frankie up to the second story of the small, run down building. Technically, it's a small apartment, but Gerard found it cheap and so close to the gallery that he couldn't help but buy it. 

"I had wanted to have a studio in my apartment, but I really didn't have that much room to spare," Gerard says as he flicks the lights on. 

Frankie looks around, papers, paints, brushes, pencils, new, incomplete and finished canvass scatter through out the room. It looks like an art supply store coughed up all of its merchandise into one room. The walls are surprisingly white and bare, there's a small table and chair in one corner near a large window where Gerard does most of his sketches. A few easels of various sizes are set out with a variety of different things. 

"Wow. I was not expecting there to be this much here." Frankie says, astonished. He sets his coffee cup onto the side table near the couch and Gerard follows in his suit. 

"Well, this is my entire life and I've been working on this collection for years now." Gerard says, trying to down play it slightly.

"It's all so amazing. How can you do so much?" Frankie practically gapes as he takes in all of the artwork. 

"It's not that much." Frankie's head turns to look at Gerard as he speaks, "Besides, you probably do as much as I do on a daily basis." 

"What do you mean?" Frankie asks, almost awestruck, "I tattoo people. There's no creativity there, I just do as I'm told." 

"Well you have to draw out designs for them to begin with, don't you?" Gerard goes on, "Then you have to follow through with the design. You were hired for a reason, I'm sure it's because you were extremely impressive."

"Ehh I was hired by a friend from high school, and I know I don't do a bad job, I just don't feel like I'm doing anything original, and isn't originality half of what art is?" Frankie asks rhetorically. 

Gerard doesn't catch that it was all just rhetorical and responds with, "No, art is creation, anything you create is art. I could paint a straight line on that canvas over there," he points to a blank canvas on the ground, "and call it art, but it doesn't mean anyone will buy it. People come to you all of the time wanting you to permanently mark them with your artwork. There are plenty of other tattoo places that they could go to, but they come to you." Gerard talks with his hands as if he wouldn't be able to speak if they were tied behind his back.

"Well, when you say it that way, I do sound pretty damn amazing, don't I?" Frankie asks jokingly. Frankie continues to look around, picking up different canvases and looking at them intently. He never understood why some people could spend days just staring at art but he feels as if he could be happy here for hours upon hours just looking at what Gerard had created. 

"What got you into tattooing?" Gerard asks, pulling Frankie out of his reverie. 

"I really don't know. I had always wanted to have tattoos and I wasn't half bad at drawing and sketching, so why not try to expand on the little talent I had?" Frankie shrugs, "My parents weren't too happy about it, but seeing that they couldn't have kids and they did so much to get me. They supported everything I did." 

"So you were that spoiled little child then?" Gerard asks, half joking, half curious.

"Kind of, not that bad, I didn't ask for endless amounts of things even though I could. I was so used to having barely anything at the adoption center that when I finally was adopted out I was fine with close to nothing." Frankie says and the confesses, "They did try to spoil me though." 

"How old were you?" Gerard asks, hoping he isn't prying too much.

"I was eight. It wasn't too bad living with all of the other kids though. What was nice was that I didn't have to move schools or anything when they took me in. I could still be friends with Ryan and be around his friends. It was pretty nice." 

"Who's Ryan? You've mentioned him a few times." Gerard asks, still clueless as to who he is.

"He's my best friend, I've known him since I was little. His parents loved me and had me over all of the time. I'm surprised they didn't adopt me themselves." 

"That's nice that you guys are still friends." 

"Yeah, you wouldn't guess that we were friends if you saw him though." 

Confused, Gerard asks, "What do you mean?"

"He's just a very different kind of person with a very umm, flamboyant personality." Frankie says, not too sure how to describe Ryan.

Gerard laughs, "Ahhh I see." 

"So what made you do all of this then?" Frankie suddenly asks.

"Do what?" Gerard asks, confused. 

Frankie gestures all around him. "Art." 

"Oh, well, I always loved to draw, paint and just create in general. It was probably the easiest choice I ever made." Says Gerard, my giving it too much thought.

"You definitely have the talent. I really was terrible, even after art school, but I've seriously improved over the years." Frankie says.

"Well, I know I'm better now, compared to my year one portfolio. It's day and night." Gerard says and finally let's his hands rest by his sides.

"It was not that bad. I've seen your work in class," Frank counters. 

"Fine, I'll get my year one sketch book out then." Gerard waves his hand towards the couch. "Just sit down and I'll find it." Frankie watches from the comfortable couch as Gerard looks through the room. Frankie does have to admit that Gerard does earn the nickname of "tight jeaned fag artist", he makes it work for him. Gerard's back is to Frankie as he bends down to check a box on the floor and Frankie feels like a hormonal teenager as he checks out Gerard, but as soon as Gerard turns around, Frankie instantly feels like a deer in the headlights. 

To Frankie, it doesn't seem like Gerard notices, but he really does, he's quite flattered, but he still feels awkward with Frankie. He feels like he's closer to him because of their recent time they've spent together, but then he has to remind himself he's never actually slept with Frankie, but actually his strange alter ego, Frank. He has no idea where they stand. Gerard just doesn't really know what to do with himself. 

He sits down close to Frankie, thighs pressed together and he opens the book up between them. "It's organized by date, so you can kind of see me progressively get better." Gerard begins to explain each drawing, why he chose it, what it was for, and what it means. Frankie soaks in every word, usually this kind of thing would bore him. Yes, he did love art, but lectures and learning endless information on one piece seemed tedious to him, but when Gerard spoke, it was like the most interesting thing in the world. 

Gerard is about halfway through the portfolio when he turns the page and he freezes, "Umm..." he pauses. 

"Is that me?" Frank asks, kind of shocked. It looked like a rough sketch of him sitting at his desk, back slightly angled towards the point of view. 

"Yeah... We had to draw something from memory that day and... well, I had just come from one of our classes together and well, this is what came of it." Gerard says awkwardly.

"You drew this from memory?" Frankie looks closer. There is no way he himself could draw something so detailed from memory. Everything from the tattoo on his neck to the kind of shoes he was wearing is exactly the way it was in real life. It was amazingly done. 

"Yeah... It's kind of terrible, I know," Gerard says meekly. 

"No, it's not. It looks fucking amazing! I would never be able to something so beautiful." Frankie admits.

"Well, the muse is pretty perfect, I guess. I really couldn't go wrong." Frankie can feel his face flush red and he felt uncomfortably warm. The heat radiating from Gerard wasn't helping. He really didn't know what to say, but he could feel Gerard's hot breath on his neck and cheek. He knows Gerard is looking at him; he knows Gerard has done that many times before, and he's done the same. 

Frankie turns to look at Gerard and they are so close he just wants to lean in and press his lips to Gerard's. Frankie's bottom lip is pulled into his mouth and he watches as Gerard brings his hand up to his face and Gerard's thumb gently pulls out Frankie's bottom lip and he leans in and starts to kiss him slowly. Frankie pushes the portfolio to the ground and leans into the kiss. 

Gerard nips at Frankie's lip and he opens his mouth slightly, letting Gerard's tongue slip in. Gerard could taste the lingering flavor of Frankie's forgotten coffee, with a hint of cigarette setting it off. 

Frankie's hands slide into Gerard's hair and he can instantly tell by the sound that Gerard makes that his hair is a very sensitive turn on. Frankie tugs at Gerard's hair and he lets out a smothered moan before he pushes Frankie onto his back and straddles him. Gerard kisses down Frankie's jaw and his tongue traces the scorpion going down his neck and Frankie's whole body shivers. 

Gerard bites down on the scorpion and starts to suck over the bite. Frankie moans despite himself and grinds up into Gerard's hips. 

Gerard starts to pull up Frankie's tight black v-neck. "It's so different being with you," he says, half out of breath. "I'm not used to being the girl in bed." 

Frankie’s eyes shoot open and he pushes Gerard away from him a little, "What are you even talking about?" He's completely confused. 

"Well, I never bottom with anyone. But with you, it's different I guess." Gerard's voice is deep and his breath is heavy.

"For fucks sake." Frankie pushes Gerard off of him. "I've never slept with you, Gerard. That wasn't me, we're completely different people."Frankie is obviously getting angry and emotional. 

"Frankie I'm so sorry, it's just hard to get used to it. I only was told a few days ago, you have to show me some leniency. I just got lost in the moment." Gerard stands up and tries to straighten himself up. 

"Maybe I should leave," Frankie says as he pulls his jacket back on and pulls down his shirt. 

"Do you want me to walk you to the gallery? It's on my way home. Kind of." Gerard asks, trying to make up for his mistake.

Frankie sighs, but reluctantly agrees. "That's fine." They both go down the stairs, Gerard leading the way. Gerard looking like a complete idiot with his hair pointing in every direction. Frankie trying to walk comfortably while half-hard, walking with the person that made him like that. 

They continue walking in silence, but once they get to the pavement Gerard says, "Look, I'm really sorry. You have to give me time to get used to this. It's not like any other relationship I've been in, which isn't saying much, but still." 

"It's okay, I shouldn't get so pissy. I just hate this. I'm not the same as Frank, and I'm sorry that you've even been exposed to him. I don't think anyone really understands how difficult dealing with this is. Fuck, I don't know if anyone else has had this issue. For all I know, I could be fucking insane and making the entire thing up." 

"Don't say that. We both know that's not true. It's just some freak phenomena, but we'll figure it out eventually, don't worry." Frankie notes that Gerard had said 'we'll' and not 'you'll', it gave him a little bit of comfort knowing that maybe Gerard would help him figure this mess out. 

Gerard purposely bumps into Frankie, setting him off kilter and he laughs a bit, "So, when is your next day off?" Gerard asks curiously, trying to lighten the serious subject. 

"Tomorrow, actually. My entire work schedule depends on if I have any appointments on what days. When I don't have any, I get the day off. I try to get Wednesdays, Thursdays and Sundays off but sometimes it doesn't work out that exact way." Frankie says, hoping to be able to hang out with Gerard some more.

"That must be nice. We should do something then," Gerard suggests. 

"What do you have in mind?" Frankie asks, excited.

"I don't know, just hang out, have some fun, something like tonight, minus me royally fucking up." Gerard smiles brightly at Frankie.

"Sure, sounds good." They walk down the alley way to Frankie's car and he leans up against the driver’s door. 

"What time do you want me to come over?" Frankie asks, not really wanting to leave but still wanting to come back.

"Doesn't matter, whenever I suppose." Frankie looks at Gerard, he looks slightly disappointed and guilty about what happened. _I can't really blame him, he just found out,_ Frankie thinks. _Everyone makes small mistakes._ Frankie straightens up, leans forward, and kisses Gerard again. It catches Gerard by surprise, but he quickly reciprocates and wraps his arms around Frankie's waist and pulls him closer. Frankie deepens the kiss as Gerard thumbs at the exposed skin on Frankie's hip. 

"Fuck, I'm never going to get home tonight, am I?" Frankie asks after he pulls back slightly. Gerard's lips are red and swollen and Frankie watches them as Gerard talks. 

"Well, we can just go to my place, you know it's not far from here." Frankie quickly nods and they hop into his car and drive the short distance to Gerard's apartment. 

Frankie is surprised they're both as cool and collective as they are when they walk through the lobby and wait in the elevator, along with an elderly lady with a grotesque hairless dog. 

As soon as the apartment door closes behind them, Gerard is pushing Frankie up against the wall, being much more forceful than he had been before. They knock over a few things as the make it to the bedroom. Both of their jackets and shirts are discarded as Gerard starts to undo Frankie's belt. 

Quickly, Gerard takes off the belt, pops open the button and unzips Frankie's zipper. Frankie goes to undo Gerard pants, but Gerard suddenly sinks to his knees. 

Frankie's stomach ties up in knots and flips uncontrollably, his half-hard cock instantly completely hardens as Gerard pulls down his pants and drags down his boxers. Gerard slides his tongue on the underside of Frankie's cock, causing his eyes to instantly roll back as he tangled his fingers into Gerard's hair. Gerard kisses the head of Frankie's cock before he slides it into his mouth. Frankie tries not to buck his hips forward as he hits the back of Gerard's throat. He thrusts a little, but instead of choking or gagging noises, Gerard moans, then slowly drags his teeth down the length and Frankie let's out a long drawn out, "Fuck." 

Gerard moves forward again, taking Frankie completely in. Frankie looks down at Gerard and sees him looking up at him as he makes a swallowing motion that make every nerve in Frankie's body explode. Gerard pulls back and tongues the slit and Frankie's knees almost give way. Frankie experimentally bucks his hips forward again, just to see what Gerard would do. Gerard definitely doesn't disappoint, he moans loudly again, making vibrations go straight through Frankie's cock. 

He does it again, a little more forceful this time, but Gerard willing takes it. Frankie's stomach is in knots and his balls tighten, he knows what's coming. "Gerard I'm going to come," he warns him so that he can move, but Gerard doesn't, he just starts bobbing his head when Frankie stops pushing and swallows as Frankie comes down his throat. 

Frankie's vision goes stark white and then he sees stars as he falls back onto the bed. Gerard takes off his pants and crawls on top of Frankie. He begins to kiss Frankie with all the energy he can muster. Frankie can taste himself on Gerard's tongue; he isn't sure how to feel about that, he just continues to kiss Gerard. Frankie's a little distracted seeing that Gerard's cock is making it's presence obvious by digging into his hip. "Gerard, please, just fuck me." Frankie let's out as he comes back to earth. 

"What will you do if I do?" Gerard asks in a husky tone, right into Frankie's ear. 

"Anything, fuck. Gerard, just do it, please," Frankie pleads. He's a little shocked that Gerard just went from being on his knees getting his mouth fucked to being the one making him beg. He doesn't care though, he just needs Gerard right fucking now. Gerard grabs a bottle of lube and a condom. He slicks up two fingers before sliding them into Frankie, stretching him, causing him to make soft whining noises as he pushes himself onto Gerard's fingers, begging for more. 

Gerard rolls the condom on and pushes into Frankie. Frankie arches up and let's out a mix of curses and moans along with Gerard's name. Gerard pulls out and pushes in again. Frankie's neck is exposed and stretched out, Gerard takes the opportunity to bite into it as he thrusts in and out of Frankie. If Frankie hadn't just came he'd be coming now, every precise movement Gerard is making is filling Frankie with pure ecstasy. 

Gerard continues to change pace and force. Every time he hits Frankie's prostate, he bucks up and moans inaudible things. Frankie is already getting hard again, and Gerard knows he can last much longer. 

Gerard starts thrusting deeper and harder as he tries to get Frankie off for the second time that night. 

He watches Frankie with all of his twisted expressions, his hands are clenching the bed sheets, his chest and forehead are glistening in sweat. 

Almost simultaneously, they both come in long spurts. Gerard thrusts in and out as much as he can before finally pulling out. Gerard tosses the used condom into the small trash bin next to his bed and gives Frankie an old t-shirt to wipe himself off with.   
They both collapse into bed, and fall into a blissful sleep. 

[Twitter](Twitter.com/notlosingmyself)   
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	4. Identity Is Theft Of The Self

Frank's eyes shoot open. He's alive, and he's in control.

He gets out of bed and manages to get dressed in record time. He looks back at the bed he just came from and scoffs, "Oh how pathetic they both are."

Frank hates the way the clothes feel on him; too tight and the pants are slightly too short. He quickly changes out of them and into a set of clothes that Gerard has laying around. This is the only time he's actually been comfortable in such restricting clothes.

He strolls out of the building, an arrogant smile plastered on his face, his stride is unique and exact, almost like a prowl. He looks around at all of the pitiful humans surrounding him and bites back a laugh; he doesn't understand them. They're so emotional, so attached to people and material objects. Always trying to impress one another. So revolting. Completely human.

He wishes that people would see life and live it like he does. But then again, no one really could live the life he has. He knows he's one of a kind, and the small amount of time that he is Awake, he loves to spend it luxuriously and sometimes even dangerously.

He can do pretty much anything and everything he pleases. His charm and wit can help him obtain his desires, but his enormous ego tends to get him into a bit of trouble. Not like it matters though; his agility, strength, and intelligence far surpasses that of any human being. Although he is brilliant in his own mind, he isn't quite sure what he is exactly, or how he came to be, he's just always been there, lying dormant in the mind of someone who is so weak in comparison until he finally broke free and catapulted himself into reality.

Since then it's been a wonderful life for him; he has no drive to get a job and live a normal life, all he wants is to indulge himself in every way possible.

He pulls out Frankie's wallet that he snatched from his jeans and checks to see how much cash he has on him; not too much, but that only means he'll have to go by other means to obtain money.

He's not too far from New York City and only after a few visits, he knows that this is his favourite place to go. Besides, he has places to be, people to meet. 

Frank hails a taxi and takes the half hour ride up to the Big Apple. 

It's still pretty early in the day, not too much fun to be had at three p.m. in Frank's mind.

He walks through the constantly crowded sidewalks until he gets to the heart of the city where he knows the big money will be.

Frank quickly surveys the the area, trying to find the perfect victim. He spots a man walking quickly, head up, cockiness apparent in an expensive tailored suit, hair perfectly in place, the picture perfect CEO of one of many businesses to be found.

Frank walks towards the man, already knowing exactly what he has to do. Frank halfway slams into the front of the man, his hand slipping into the jacket and quickly sliding out with his winnings. The man pushes him away and makes a crude remark about the tattooed freaks polluting the city.

Frank knows by the man's reaction that he is completely unaware that he's been robbed. Frank opens the rich, black-leather billfold and checks to see how much is there; only a few hundred dollars, much less than he expected. Usually men like that would carry plenty of money on them to be showy whenever buying something around anyone. It doesn't matter though, he can always pocket another wallet later if needed.

He folds the money, slides it into his front pant pocket, and tosses the expensive wallet into the road drain next to him.

Something catches his ear, he looks down the alley where he thinks the sound came from. As he beings to step down the alley, the sound becomes louder, eventually forming into the unmistakeable cry of a woman.

Two moderately large men are at the end of the alley, hovering over the crying woman, threatening her. They clearly don't fit into this area of town, but Frank lets that pass.

Frank doesn't like to help people, except for himself. And surely he isn't a hero, but he does love to pick fights. This gives him the perfect opportunity for one.

"Picking on someone so weak? That's quite pathetic," Frank says, drawing the attention of the two men.

They both turn to him. The taller one has a blade in hand, he speaks first. "Fuck off little man. You don't want to get ya'self hurt," he says with a thick Bronx accent.

"Don't worry about me, I'll be just fine." He says as he plots the next few moments.

In a blink of an eye, Frank runs towards the smaller of the two and simply pushes him. He flies about ten feet back, not even expecting it. The bone crushing crash echos through the disgusting alley.

The man holding the knife gapes in disbelief, he holds the knife up, swinging it at Frank. "Stay the fuck away from me!" he yells.

Before he can even take a step back, Frank is there, snapping the man's hand back, breaking his wrist, sending the knife crashing to the ground.

The man's scream rings in Frank's ears as he kicks him to the ground. He hovers over the man, ready to beat him bloody when he suddenly hears someone calling his name.

"I thought you said it was pathetic to pick on the weak, Frank." A man behind him says.

Frank turns around, already knowing who is behind him. He walks forward cautiously. "I already told you two no."

A man in the red tie walks forward. "See, you didn't even give us time to tell you what we have to offer." Frank hears the two thugs behind him rush away, both fleeing for their lives.

"I don't want or need what you have to offer. I already can get everything I want." He says as he straightens out his clothes.

"But, see, the problem is, the people we work for don't take no for an answer," Mr. Red Tie confesses.

"Well that's intimidating," Frank says sarcastically. "What are you going to do? Have Bubba over there drag me off?" Frank gestures to the large man behind the Mr. Red Tie. "You must have missed what I did to those two back there. And that was just me playing around. I assure you that you don't want to see me actually angry and fighting."

"We're well aware of what you can do, Mr. Iero. We'll give you more time to think about it, but, if you do not comply soon, we will take action."

"Oooh spooky. Good luck with that," Frank says as he turns his back and walks away.

"You sure you don't want to know how you can life your own life?" The man calls to Frank.

"It can't be done," Frank calls over his shoulder as he continues to walk. He knows those jokes of intimidation can't do anything to help him live a separate life. It's all just somthing to lure him in.

* * *

Gerard rolls over and pats the space next to him. His eyes fly open, Frankie isn't there.

He sits up and glances around the room. He spots Frankie's jeans and t-shirt so he calls out his name. He must be around here somewhere.

Gerard climbs out of bed and trots around the apartment, looking for Frankie.

Gerard is left dumbfounded; Frankie's clothes are still there but he's nowhere to be found.

He picks up his phone and calls Frankie's cell. Gerard hears the sound of vibrations almost instantly. He picks up Frankie's pants and fishes out the phone, then tosses it onto the bed.

He checks for Frankie's car keys, oddly enough, they're still in his pocket, but his wallet isn't.

Gerard doesn't know what to think of this. He decides that he needs to go off and find Frankie. He tries to find his favourite pair of jeans. He goes through the cluttered mess on the floor, but they're no where to be found.

and finds it empty, but notices. Note on the door. He opens it up and all it says is _i know your secret._

Gerard just stares at the note. He doesn't know what to make of it. He has no secret, that he can think of, that's worth any form of intimidation. 

Then it hits him. Frank.

"He must be fucking with me." Gerard says under his breath.

He thinks about it and it's the only logical explanation; that's why the jeans, wallet and Frankie are all gone.

Gerard quickly gets dressed and heads to Frankie's apartment in hopes of finding him there.

* * *

Frankie wakes up on a cold tile floor. His vision is blurred and he can feel the alcohol pumping through his veins. He already feels the effects of a hangover coming. He head throbs and his vision and hearing is hypersensitive.

He sits up and realizes that he's in a bathroom. This has happened more times than Frankie is willing to admit. He looks around. At least this one is actually very clean and elegant compared to the other bathrooms he's woken up in.

He rubs the back of his head and stumbles out of the bathroom. He has to grab his pants as they sag, making him realize that they aren't even his.

He walks out into the restaurant and looks around, confused.

A waitress approaches him. "She left. She said it was an emergency," The waitress whose name tag reads "ANDREA" says.

"Wait, who?" Frankie asks, completely confused.

"The woman you were with." She says, almost rudely.

"Where was she sitting?" Frankie asks, still confused.

Andrea points to the corner with an empty table in it.

Frankie looks at the table, hoping for some clue as to who he was with.

All that's on the table is a glass that was obviously Frank's and a long, skinny cigarette with a purple band around it still burning in the ashtray.

Frankie calls over Andrea and asks for the bill but she says, "She covered it," and walks away again.

Frankie just lets it go. Who knows? Maybe Frank had a friend or girlfriend of some sort.

The thought does disturb him though. Frankie doesn't want to think about Frank actually having a life. It makes him seem too weird, too normal.

He tries to shake his head clear of those thoughts. Frankie quickly pats down his pockets for his phone, but all he has is his wallet. He curses to himself and walks out of the restaurant.

It doesn't take a lot of walking before he comes up to a row of three pay phones. He pulls out a few coins, inserts them into the machine, and dials Ryan's number.

The phone rings six times before Ryan's annoying automated answering machine picks up.

Frankie could easily get a cab, this is New York after all, but he absolutely hates them and the fare would be astronomical.

As he digs in his pockets for more change, Frankie decides that if Ryan doesn't pick up this time, he'll have to try calling Gerard. He really doesn't want to be bothersome; but he knows that he's probably worried about him disappearing on him again, and of course he's probably missing the clothes that are sagging on Frankie now.

This time the call goes straight to voicemail. Frankie slams the phone onto the receiver. It's so strange, Ryan never misses a call, especially from Frankie. You can never catch Ryan without his phone on him.

Frankie takes a deep breath and feeds the machine his last few quarters.

The phone rings five times and Frankie is ready to just give up before he suddenly hears someone pick up.

"Hello?" The unfamiliar voice asks.

Frankie kicks the pole holding up the phone.

"God damn it. I have the wrong number. Fuck. Sorry man." Frankie goes to hang up the phone.

"Wait!" he hears the guy on the other line call out. "Is this Frankie?"

"Uhh yeah. How do you know me?" Frankie's confusion only continues.

He hears the man call out to someone with him.

"Frankie?" He hears Gerard ask, half out of breath.

"Fuck, I'm sorry, Gerard. Frank-" Frankie begins.

Gerard just cuts him off, "No, it's okay, I know. Where are you?"

Frankie looks around for road signs. "I'm in New York, off Fifty-Second and Main."

"I'll be there as soon as I can. Just stay where you're at." Gerard asks. To Frankie it sounds like he's already on the move.

Frankie let's out a sigh of relief and says, "I'll be at the little bakery on the corner. Would you mind bringing my car and all my stuff with you? I have to fucking work in the morning."

"Of course, no problem. I'll see you soon," Gerard says before hanging up.

Frankie thanks every existent and non-existent god out there as he walks into the small bakery. Not only is Gerard willing to come get him, but for once, it isn't in the middle of the fucking night when he wakes up somewhere he's unfamiliar with.

Compared to some of the places he's woken up in, this one is quite nice; not trashy, grimy, or filthy.

As Frankie sits there nibbling on a banana muffin and sipping his coffee. He thinks about who Frank could possibly be having breakfast with. It just didn't seem like Frank would be one to sit down and eat with someone. But, then again, how well did Frankie know his alternative self?

The bakery was quite cozy actually, the few people shuffling through seem very happy and definitely from the upper half of the economic scale.

Frankie almost feels like he doesn't blend in well here, and he's right. His tattoos, piercings, and baggy clothes stick out in the room of suits and soccer moms. It doesn't bother him though, there was always something different about him. He never was one to fit in, and he's just learned to embrace it.

After finishing his muffin and two cups of coffee, Frankie rests his head on the table. The cold, hard surface does help his burning forehead cool off a bit. He feels as if he's been struck with a minor cold after every Change, but he keeps moving on. Being sick is nothing new to him after all.

He hears the bells on the door chime as someone walks in, he looks up hopefully to see Gerard. And for the first time that night, something goes in his favour.

He stands up and hugs Gerard tightly. "Jesus Christ. I'm glad you're safe." Gerard breathes out.

Frankie pulls away, "How long have I been gone?"

"Since late last night. I didn't know where you were. I was really worried."

Frankie looks down, sad and apologetically, "I'm sorry. I didn't know he could take over for so long."

"It's okay, it's not your fault." Gerard turns a ushers Frankie out to his car.

After the short trip, they finally arrive back at Frankie's. The ride really didn't consist of too much talking, Frankie is worn out and just wants to sleep.

All Frankie wants to do is crawl into bed and sleep forever, but he doesn't want to just leave Gerard. It still is early in the morning.

"I'm going to go change out of your clothes, I'll be right back." Frankie quickly changes and returns to the livingroom to see Gerard half asleep on the couch.

Frankie shakes him and asks, "You didn't sleep at all last night, did you?"

"No, I was really worried about you." Gerard confesses.

Frankie feels really bad about that but he feels a warmth inside because he knows that at least someone worries for him.

"Come on, let's go to bed." Frankie says and pulls Gerard up.

* * *

Frankie wakes up to the warmth of someone else. Their chest softly rising and falling under his head after each breath taken.

Frankie's eyes fight to stay open, he's tired, and he would much rather fall back asleep, but he knows he can't. Besides, sleeping on the couch is completely uncomfortable. He and Gerard fell asleep there the night before while watching some terrible movie on late night television.

Gerard just decided to stick around, and Frankie really doesn't mind. What surprises him is not the fact that Gerard is just always around and there for him the last few weeks. But what is shocking is how familiar it is. How comfortable it is. Normally Frankie doesn't feel this comfortable with anyone but Ryan. Not even Pete or Adam; and he's known them for years.

He tries to get up without waking Gerard but Gerard's arm is wrapped tightly around his waist. Holding him in place.

"Gee, let me up. I have to get ready for work." Gerard groans a little bit and pulls Frankie in tighter. "Not all of us work on our own schedule. Please, Gerard."

Frankie pushes on Gerard's stubborn arm and when he's finally let go, he accidentally crashes to the floor.

"Fuck!" Frankie exclaims as he lays flatly on the floor.

"It's your fault," Gerard mumbles before turning around and going back to sleep.

Frankie quickly jumps into the shower and rinses off before getting dressed. He just stops and looks in the mirror; he thinks he looks a lot less stressed and much more awake. It's almost been four days since Frank's last visit into New York and Frankie feels like there is something off. Something wrong.

Frank would come around about once every two weeks in the beginning, but in the recent months, he's been showing up almost every other day. Sometimes it would only be for an hour or two but other visits would take up almost the entire day.

Frankie just counts it as a blessing and hopes Frank won't return, but he knows it's inevitable.

Frankie is lacing up his shoes as he hears a faint knocking sound on his front door.

"Fuck, Gerard did you lock yourself out, again?" Frankie calls out.

"No, stop yelling! I'm trying to sleep," Gerard whines.

Frankie walks to the door and looks through the peephole. No one is there. He opens the door to check down the hall and he steps on a large envelope.

He picks it up and looks at it. It's not marked, it's perfect with no wrinkles or creases, and it's sealed.

He takes the envelope and brings it into the kitchen to open it.

Frankie rips open the sealed flap and pulls out the contents. It's a small stack of 8X10 inch photographs. A small white paper falls to the ground as he sets the stack down. He picks it up and in simple messy handwriting it reads 'we know your secret'.

Frankie shuffled through the pictures and it's multiple pictures of him and then of Frank.

He drops the pictures-- knowing that the person who delivered them is long gone-- and wakes up Gerard.

"Gerard get up," he says as he shakes him awake.

"No. I'm sleeping." Gerard mumbles.

"Fucking get your ass up. Someone just left me a message saying they know about Frank." He shakes Gerard a bit more.

Gerard quickly wakes up and looks at him.

He shuffles through the pictures and looks at the note closely. "What the fuck? How do they know?" He asks, completely astounded.

"I have no idea, but look at all of these, there are so many of them," Frankie says, gesturing at the pile before them.

"Have you told anyone other than Ryan and I?" Gerard asks.

"No. I didn't want anyone knowing." Frankie says, trying to think.

Gerard closely examines the photographs. He flips one over and makes a conclusive sound. "They aren't home printed. They're from a photography company. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before. Downtown. They might not be the ones who actually took these, but they at least printed them. They may know who took them."

"Do you think they'll tell us?" Frankie asks, very hopeful.

"I don't know, it's worth a shot." Gerard says.

"I'll go right after work." He states, as he picks up all of the pictures and slides them into the large envelope again.

Frankie hands him the note, "This was in there too."

Gerard looks at it and instantly recognizes the handwriting. "Wait did Frank have this delivered?"

Frankie looks confused and says "I don't think so. Why?"

"The handwriting, it looks like a note that I thought he left me the other day." Gerard examines it closely. 

"What did it say?"

"Pretty much the same thing. I don't know why I forgot about it."

Frankie lets out a deep breath, "I don't think Frank was taking pictures of himself, Gerard. It doesn't matter, I have to go to work right now."

"Oh, no no no, you're not just going off to work like everything is fine. They know about you. They obviously want somthing. They could hurt you." Gerard says, evidently worried. 

"Gerard, they've been following me for a long while now, they've had many chances to do it. I'll be okay."

"But-" Gerard tries to contest.

"Look, I'm trying to keep just a bit of normalcy. I'm going to work and then I'll go check them out." Frankie says as he goes back to tying his shoes.

"How about you go to work and I go see them." Gerard offers.

"No, you're not going by yourself. We go together." Frankie stands up and gives in.

"Fine," Gerard agrees. "I'll come to get you during your lunch break. We can go then, it's not too far from there."

* * *

Frankie tries to focus as he needles in the final designs of a tattoo onto his customers wrist.

He's been nervous all day. He didn't know what he was going to find come lunch hour.

He hears the faint sound of the door bells chime as someone comes in.

"Hey, Frankie, you've got a visitor," Haylie calls out.

Without a response, she sends his visitor to the doorway of the back.

Frankie looks up to see Gerard. "Oh, you're early, you can come back here and watch. I'm almost done."

"Uhh I think I'll just wait in the front," Gerard says nervously. He looks almost sick to Frankie. Gerard turns around, leaving the door open and sits in the front room.

"Who's that?" Pete asks from behind him. Pete hadn't had much to do that day but there was always a few walk-ins wanting something pierced so he was almost always there.

"That's Gerard." Frankie says passively.

"Oh. The Tight Jeaned Artist? That Gerard?" Pete jokes. 

"Fucking hell. You and Ross will be the end of me. Yes, that Gerard. Because I just know so many Gerards." Frankie says as he tries to go back to the inking.

"I'm going to go talk to him." Before Frankie could even protest, Pete was up and leaving the room. All he hears is "You must be the Tight-" before the door separating the front and back room shuts.

He quickly finishes up the girl's tattoo and dresses it up in gauze. She smiles as she walks away, excited about her new tattoo.

Frankie walks into the front room, expecting to find Gerard in the corner rocking back and forth crying because of Pete. Instead, he finds them talking and even laughing.

Neither of them even look up so Frankie says, "Hey, Gerard, ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's go," he says before saying goodbye and walking out with Frankie.

The walk out of the shop; the air is thick with humidity and it's icy cold. The typical weather that comes right before the rain.

They climb into Gerard's nicely warm car and Frankie's goose flesh skin settles.

"Why did Pete call me-" Gerard begins to say.

"Don't even ask. You'll probably find out when you meet Ryan." Frankie says. 

The thought of Ryan pops into his head. Ryan really hasn't been around lately. Frankie barely gets a text message back from him nowadays. Frankie just guesses that Ryan's just spending more time with Brendon and writes it off.

Gerard pulls up to the shop that Frankie assumes is the photography shop. His stomach turns as he thinks about what may happen now.

They both climb out into the muggy weather and Frankie walks closely next to Gerard.

The door to the shop bears the same symbol on the back of the photographs and the sign reads that they are open.

They walk in and a sensor dings to notify the workers that someone has entered. 

Frankie and Gerard take in the sight before them. The photography shop is in an apocalyptical state; files, papers, and pictures are everywhere.

Gerard walks up to the hippie looking guy behind the first desk he sees. "Hey, can you help us with something?"

"No, we're closing up," he says nonchalantly as he packs up his things.

"What do you mean closing up?" Gerard asks, confused.

"Owner's great uncle died or somthing. Big inheritance or some shit," he says and then under his breath, "I wish I had a great rich dead uncle."

"Can you at least help us before you close?" Frankie asks.

"Sorry, but no. We're closed for business we're not taking on any new customers." He says as he pulls another box onto his desk.

"But we just need to know where these photos came from," Frankie pleads, and hands the man the large envelope.

He takes them and glances at the photos. "Sorry, I can't even do that. Strick business-customer confidentiality agreement."

"This is a fucking photography business! Not a doctors office. That's bullshit," Gerard yells, getting quite irritated. He wanted to stay calm and collective but this guy was giving him nothing.

"Oh, that's what you think we are? This is a private investigative service. Not some photography business. You can leave now." The man says as he shoves the envelope back into Frankie's hands.

"Look, you can sit your ass down, get on that computer of yours and tell us who sent us these," Gerard says, visibly angry.

"Is there a problem?" Asks a man with a bit of an afro.

"Yeah, there is," Gerard says. "We want some answers as to why this was sent to us, and who they are from." He hands the envelope to the man.

"Can't help you. Andy, can you show them out?" he asks.

"No! We want to know what's going on," Gerard practically yells.

Andy, the man behind the desk starts to push Gerard and Frankie out the door. He quickly slips a paper into Frankie's pocket and says quietly, "Lose your tail and you'll have all your answers soon enough." And before Gerard and Frankie know it they're out on the street with the door locked behind them.

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